


Rugged Loving Hands

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom! Spencer, M/M, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Top! Brendon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 13:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13705107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This was exactly what he wanted: that god damn boy rocking on top and inside him. He wanted a good fuck from his bandmate and he was finally getting it. With his rugged hand against the smaller boy’s soft back, he pushed him closer.





	Rugged Loving Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the Vices era.  
> Fuck, I love the Vices era.

Straddling eagerly, Brendon’s hands gripped onto Spencer’s gorgeously thick thighs as he pushed into him. He moaned softly; Spencer groaned and closed his eyes. He smoothed his hands from Spencer’s thighs, up to where they joined at the hip, and pushed again. The man below held back another groan. Even the first slow few thrusts were fucking him up in the best way possible.

 

This was exactly what he wanted: that god damn boy rocking on top and inside him. He wanted a good fuck from his bandmate and he was finally getting it. With his rugged hand against the smaller boy’s soft back, he pushed him closer. While Brendon continued to gradually move inside of him and get a feel for it, Spencer, in a chesty voice said, “I like thrusts when they’re hard and fast.”

 

“Hmm, you do?” Brendon looked up at him lifting an interested brow.

 

Spencer hummed in agreement, “Fast-paced, close, sweaty, quick thrusts and—fuck—yeah, that’s how I like it. God. Ugh, ugh, _yes_.”

 

Brendon bit his lip, working fast, making it a breathy, moany mess for the two of them. So much breath, it blanketed their skin.

 

Brendon had thought about fucking Spencer for _so_ long. Spencer was big; Spencer was _meat._ He needed to get on top of him. He fucking needed it. He’d thought about it on all those desperate secret jack-offs he’d have at 2am in the tour bus for the past six years of knowing him. However, touching himself to the thought barely _compared_ to the act. In this moment, he could smell Spencer’s pure self; he could feel Spencer’s every bump in skin; he could see the definition in it—the moles, the pores, the barely visible beads of sweat sliding down his skin. This was _Brendon’s_ doing. _He_ was the one breaking a sweat in Spencer and it felt amazing.

 

Eventually, the continuous nerve endings and sweet spots he was hitting had overwhelmed him and he had to slow himself in order to try and continue. Whilst rocking inside of him slower now, he rested his head against Spencer’s chest and kissed the hair that protected it. He tried to keep a pace, but he was slowing down too much and was soon enough coming inside of him. He dragged out every moan and whine as long as possible. His sounds vibrated through Spencer’s ribcage.

 

Spencer lifted Brendon’s head while the boy was still orgasming. He drank in the sight and ate away at Brendon’s big lips in attempt to hush himself as he came to his own orgasm.

 

“Fuck,” Spencer breathed out. He fell back onto the sheets.

 

“Yeah. Fuck,” Brendon repeated—word and action. He crept his hand into Spencer’s and held tight. “That was intense.” He exhaled and smiled.


End file.
